The Brook Horse
by Story Please
Summary: Hermione has had far too many shots of Firewhiskey after being abandoned in Hogsmeade by Ron on what was supposed to be their one-year anniversary dinner date. She ends up finding a diversion to make her forget about her terrible luck, but all is not what it seems, especially under a full moon in the dead of night.


_Author's Note: This is a short one-shot for my friend Corvus Draconis, who has FINALLY taken me up on my offer for a free story of her choice. She's requested a story involving Severus, Hermione and kelpies, so I'm going to do my best to honor this to the best of my ability. Ehehehehe…..I'm gonna have fun with this one._

_PS: The only way I can even imagine a situation in which Hermione would not know a kelpie on sight is if she were stinking drunk out of her mind because she obviously memorized the entire book of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. So bear with the drunken language, ok?_

* * *

**The Brook Horse**

It wasn't a unicorn.

"_Hic-_ of course it's not a bloody-_urp_-unicorn, Hermione! You wen' and gev up yer virginity to the biggest, mus' gormless red-haired idiot in the. Whole. Bloody. Universe!" Hermione muttered drunkenly to herself as she stumbled sideways into a tree, "Ann'a worst part? I'twasn' even _good_!"

She was pretty sure that there weren't two of them, but the double vision was making it difficult to confirm that fact. The beautiful glossy white coat nearly glowed in the moonlight and if there hadn't been such an obvious lack of a beautiful spiral horn jutting from the magnificent beasts' brow, she would have sworn that it was a unicorn.

But after that many shots of Firewhiskey, she probably would have sworn that Aberforth's goats were unicorns too.

There was just something innately _touchable_ about them, and Hermione's brain was far too sluggish with drink to resist.

Walking back to Hogwarts from The Hogs Head Inn was much easier said than done while angry and inebriated. Hermione cursed Ron and his lackluster bedroom performance for what seemed like the umpteenth time. It had started out so well, too. Ron had decided that he didn't need to finish his last year in school and was busy with Auror training, but he'd _finally_ set time aside to visit Hermione at Hogwarts. He'd even been able to stay in Hermione's room, as she was Head Girl and allowed private quarters. Of course, as one of the heroes instrumental in bringing down Voldemort, it was the least that Hogwarts could do, but Hermione refused to have House Elves waiting on her hand and foot and had practically had a conniption when they tried to give her a "personal" elf to call upon at any time night or day.

She'd bled, damn him. She was still sore at the poor job he'd done at helping her ease into the entire act itself, and when he was done, _good lord_, she could barely even _think_ it. She could feel her hair standing on end as though filled with static electricity at the memory of how he'd literally just rolled over and _fallen asleep_ without so much as a how-do-you-do!

And then today..._today_! He'd seen Lavender, Parvati and Padma through the big picture window at the front of the Three Broomsticks and just _had_ to say "hello" when he knew that they had a lunch reservation at the new restaurant next to where the Shrieking Shack had burned down in the aftermath of the Final Battle. Of course, they'd oohed and ahhed as he told the same three stories that he had already told The Daily Prophet and pretty much anyone else who'd listen. Hermione had heard them a gazillion times.

"You do realize that I was _there_, less than five feet away from you, in _all_ of these stories?" she'd said unimpressively as Ron had gotten to the part where he'd faked Parseltongue well enough to get down into the Chamber of Secrets. Then she'd gotten up to use the loo and come back to Ron sitting between Lavender and the twins, his arms around them as though pulling them into a huddle.

There was nothing for it. Hermione had sniffed loudly with disdain and told Ron where he could shove his Order of Merlin, told the girls that if they were hoping to experience Ron's lack of endurance in the bedroom firsthand that they should _go right ahead_ for all she cared and stormed off to the Hog's Head in a rage.

That had been...wait...how long _had_ it been? Well it was dark out, so the part of Hermione's brain that was still working knew it had been awhile. And Ron's silence had been far louder a declaration than receiving a Howler or nasty message via owl.

Now that she was looking at it properly, that horse was _strikingly_ beautiful. It was standing out in the tall reeds and rush plants near an almost quaint babbling brook. Not eating, not pawing the ground. Just standing silently under the glow of the waxing moon.

Staring at her with haunting, honey-colored eyes.

_Wait, when did I get turned around? There are no babbling brooks on the path back to Hogwarts._

This momentary rational thought bobbed for a moment at the surface of her mind before sinking under the deep inebriated stupor she'd drunk herself into.

_Ooooh. Pretty horsie._

She nearly tripped on the rotted remains of a fence and swore when her stocking caught on some wire and tore a hole, scratching the skin underneath. A sign was attached to one of the rotted horizontal posts, but it was too dark and the words were too obscured by rust and lichen to see what it said, and, after all, Hermione knew how to handle horses.

Hermione's parents may have been dentists and lived in a suburban housing development that was a far off distance from the rolling hills and wide open spaces that a horse would need to thrive, but like most like little girls, Hermione had gone through a horse phase, which had included an equestrian camp every summer starting from the time she was eight until the summer she'd gotten her letter and fallen in love with magic instead.

But now, with her mind muddled with drink and her heart freshly bruised from Ron's boorish, uncaring behavior, Hermione could feel an overwhelming desire to climb up on the bare back of such a magnificent creature and feel those muscles working under her, the raw power and beauty of something with physical strength beyond her ability yet somehow still under her control.

Her boots squelched loudly in the sticky mud that suddenly seemed to well up out of the ground, hidden by the long grass. Hermione nearly fell twice as she kept getting stuck, and found herself practically waddling as she made her way down the gentle hill towards the horse, which stood and regarded her with gentle, almost hypnotic eyes.

There was something about the white horse's thick-lashed amber gaze that gave Hermione the feeling that she would be safe, that this proud creature was tame and kind and would be gentle with her even though she'd never ridden without a saddle.

Almost without thinking, Hermione raised her hand out as she approached, the desire to run her hand across the silky coat so strong in the back of her throat that she felt like she might choke on it.

A loud rustling noise came from the bushes behind her and she turned, squinting in the moonlight. For a moment, all was silent and she turned back halfway towards the horse when a massive dark shadow burst from the chest-high weeds and grasses. Hermione shrieked and fell sideways into the mud, feeling the cold wetness of it oozing through her robes until it wet the fabric of her cotton knickers.

"Craaaaw," jeered the massive raven, as it perched on a dead log's tree limb, looking at her sideways with a large black eye.

Pulling herself back up, Hermione felt disgusting and embarrassed, but also somewhat shocked back to her senses. Apparently, it had taken the cold, awful sensation of mud against the left side of her arse to blast through her drunken haze.

"I can' believe I'm crashing 'round in th' dark an' mud an' ugh, me head bleedin' hurts!" Hermione slurred, rubbing her head.

She turned back to look at the horse wistfully.

She'd been so close...

She shook her head.

_Close to what, exactly?_

A twinge of suspicion rose in the back of her mind and she had the impression that she _knew_ this. It was..._familiar_ somehow.

But she'd never ridden a pearl-white horse. Always dappled or brown or bay or (once, at a friend's birthday party) an Appaloosa pony. The thought nagged at her, and she frowned.

"Craaaaaw. Craw!" The raven clicked its beak and looked sideways at Hermione as though sneering, which was silly because birds are physically incapable of such a facial expression. It seemed oddly familiar, which was also ridiculous, as Hermione had never been much for befriending the local wildlife.

The massive bird hopped back and forth on its makeshift perch expectantly.

"Yer an odd duck," Hermione giggled.

The raven puffed up its glossy feathers as though taking offense and made a noise that sounded uncannily like a rude word. It fanned its wings and made a motion almost as though trying to wave her back toward the path.

"Aww, are yeh worried fer me?" Hermione drawled, hiccuping loudly and dissolving into giggles as she covered her mouth.

The raven made a dubious noise.

"Well, if yer gonna be like that, I'll jus' hafta go with Mr. Horsie instead, then," Hermione replied, her face screwed up into an exaggeratedly drunken pout.

She turned and nearly fell over again with shock.

The horse had _moved_.

It _was_ standing in the tall grasses, silent and still, but it was now mere feet away from her, its eyes like amber lights, peering into her soul with an intensity that made her shiver. There had been no telltale sound of hooves in mud that she could remember. It had been utterly and eerily quiet in its approach.

Hermione's befuddled mind reeled and the uncomfortable ache in her belly began to worsen.

Something was very, _very_ wrong.

But, as she returned the gaze of the gorgeous creature, she felt her heart throb with the indescribable urge to climb on its back.

She stepped forward, ignoring the sound of the mud squelching around her ruined boots.

In one fluid movement, the horse bent its knee and crouched down as though to invite her to climb on its back.

She stepped forward again, hearing the incessant sound of the raven's shrieks as though they were coming from very far away.

But she was finding that even the pain in her stomach was receding as her eyes focused upon that golden color reflected back at her from the gorgeous mount within reach of her. She stroked the fine, glossy coat with her gloved hand, humming absentmindedly to herself.

And then she climbed up and up until she was astride its back at last.

Though she knew it was silly, she could have sworn it was daytime, with blue cloudless skies, a faint breeze and a summer warmth that sharply contradicted the winter cold she knew was blowing around her in reality. The brook ahead seemed so refreshing. She wanted to go there.

She urged her steed onward towards the water, and it complied gently, corded muscles flexing as it glid towards the sandy bank.

She could hear the frantic calls of the raven as its wings beat against her back, its claws rending at the fabric of her cloak and she cried out, swatting it away from her. Why was it so hellbent on snatching away her newfound happiness?

The damned bird was ruining _everything_.

"Gerroff!" she cried, pulling out her wand and sending a bolt of energy towards the bird until it let go of her with an irritated squawk.

The horse paused, looking back at her, and she patted his back to let him know it was ok.

_Odd, my glove is stuck._

She tried to move her boot, but it was stuck as well.

It was then that she noticed that the white coat of the horse had gone a smokey grey around her stuck gloved hand and she became aware of a sinking sensation as though she were being sucked down slowly into quicksand.

_Oh god._

The creature turned back to look at her once more, and it was no longer a horse. Its golden eyes remained, but they dwelt in the hollow sockets of a ghastly black and shrunken skull, with long, yellow tusk-like teeth that jutted horribly from the bottom of its jaw. With a cry like the scream of a dying child, it began to slide more quickly through the thick mud towards the water's edge.

Hermione gasped and her mind, terrified into sobriety, remembered the exact passage from Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find them:

_The Kelpie uses a primitive form of Occlumency to make unwary humans think that it is a beautiful horse. It then entrances them, tricks them into climbing aboard its back, which begins to slowly consume anything that touches it and then pulls the hapless victim into the water, drowning them as it slowly absorbs the body of the corpse through its skin. Some say that the Kelpie's practice of quickly drowning its victims is actually a kindness, for the pain of being absorbed alive would be excruciating._

She was dead. There was no escape.

The raven had been trying to save her, protect her...and she'd been a fool.

Bitter tears poured down her cheeks and she let her head fall back limply as she resigned herself to her fate.

But then there was a flash of light, and she felt a numbing pain rip through her body and a weight slammed into her knocking her over and into the mud.

_The mud._

She'd never been so happy to be covered with filth in her entire life.

She dared to open one grime-encrusted eye and saw the back end of the horrible thing that had been such a gorgeous steed only minutes before slide into the dark water and disappear.

It was then that she realized that she was being held by someone who was similarly covered in mud. Someone wearing all black, well, at least in the light of the moon, it appeared black.

"You just _had_ to ignore my warnings, didn't you?" a very familiar, yet somehow husky voice said sardonically, "For an insufferable know-it-all, you sure can be thick at the worst possible moment!"

A white handkerchief was thrust into Hermione's grimy hands and she wiped her face, looking up at her rescuer.

_It couldn't be._

"I assure you, it is," he said with a long-suffering sigh.

"Pr...proffess...Snape...but...but you're…" she stuttered as her brain tried to keep up with the new information.

"_Dead_? Oh please, if I had a Galleon for every time I encountered that particular reaction, I'd be able to retire in luxury," he replied with a smirk.

"_You_ were the raven?" she asked incredulously.

"What, are we playing a game of _State the Obvious_ now? I hardly think that's appropriate, seeing our mutual state of disrepair," he replied, his dark eyes glittering, "But if you insist, you do realize that you were about to be dragged to a watery grave by a Kelpie in the middle of the night, correct? That's quite an ambitious level of of stupidity, even for a Gryffindor. And here I was, thinking that some of the information that I imparted to my students in Defense Against the Dark Arts had sunk in."

Hermione turned red, feeling partially stung and partially grateful for having been saved at the last minute, but as she tried to reply with something scathing, she realized that her teeth were chattering like crazy. Puzzled, she looked down, her gasp freezing in her throat as she nearly fainted with embarrassment.

She was nearly naked, covered in tiny cuts and her knickers and bra were hanging on by mere threads. And if that wasn't bad enough, she was covered in mud and bits of grass and weeds and god knows what else from head to toe.

And as she looked up at the hooked nose and greasy hair, which thankfully had fallen over Snape's eyes so she couldn't see if he was looking at her in what had to be the most embarrassing state of undress she'd ever been in in her entire life, she noticed that his face had gone a similar shade of scarlet as her own.

For a long moment, they stared at the ground and then at each other and then at the water as though the Kelpie would reappear and drag them down so that they would both be spared the embarrassment of having to get out of this particular situation with their mutual dignity intact.

"Here," he said, finally, unclasping his traveling cloak, "You look...cold."

"What did you do to me?" she said, her chattering teeth only mildly improved as she wrapped the surprisingly soft black material around her body.

"I had to make a number of cuts to remove the clothing, which had embedded into the Kelpie's skin, in order to save you from suffering the same fate," he said, obviously glad to say something biting that didn't involve drawing attention to his involuntary reaction to Hermione's near-nudity.

After all, he couldn't help but find her body to be a more than adequate repository for her amazing and brilliantly attractive mind.

Not that he'd tell her this, of course.

"But...Sir…" she mumbled into the fabric, inhaling his scent and feeling more than a little vulnerable and small in the dark alone with what was sure to be a ghost by anyone's standards.

"Please. I am no longer 'Sir' to you, because I am no longer your Professor nor do I plan to ever return to that deathtrap they call a _school_," Snape snorted, crossing his arms as he tried not to care how Hermione still shivered in the cold.

"Then...what should I-?"

"Severus, just call me Severus," he said quickly, waving his hand as though to emphasize that this was not a big deal at all, even though it was, "And we are standing in the arse end of a swamp in the middle of the night. Perhaps we should retire to a more suitable location for a complicated and what I am sure will be a question-heavy midnight chat?"

Hermione nodded and allowed him to tuck his arm around her as they Apparated together. She even snuggled a little into the warmth of his body and smiled as he seemed to tense up at her touch. Something told her that he didn't mean her any harm or he'd have let the Kelpie have her as a midnight snack. And from the look on his face, he'd seen more than enough of her and had still saved her life for what was likely the umpteenth time.

She only hoped that wherever they were going also had warm running water and hot tea, because her former professor was right, it _was_ going to be a long night indeed.


End file.
